Dénouement
by Marinette's Lost Twin
Summary: In which the Parisian superhero duo gets the closest thing there is to a happy ending.
1. Return to Paris

If she were being honest, the time she spent fighting crimes as Ladybug during her teenage years had been the climax of her youth, or quite possibly her entire biography.

Lately, her life had just been the complete opposite of rising action and the amount of excitement she initially had at the idea of taking that trip to New York City had just plumetted into oblivion until she wasn't even sure anymore if there were at least residuals left. Sure, she was grateful. Chloé really outdid everyone this year when it came to _not-favors_—the fashion guru just exploited _the_ Audrey Bourgeois for an NYC fashion week invitation just for a _definitely-not-birthday-present_. Normally, she'd have been flattered.

But something seemed out of place.

Something was terribly wrong and she just couldn't put a name to it, which was, she would quote Chloé on this, utterly ridiculous!

If she didn't know any better, she would have assumed that Chloé just wanted someone to torment since the blonde would have had no one else to fly away from Paris with (_Sabrina refused, miracles do happen!_). Unfortunately, she did. It wasn't that she actually hated the idea of being stuck with the spoiled brat, her relationship had surprisingly graduated from its sour beginnings, after all.

No, it was simply that she felt as though Chloé was scheming something behind her back, and she didn't like not knowing. In typical Alya fashion, she swore to get to the bottom of this.

And so she ran through her mind every single thing she knew so far.

Unlike in their lycée years, though, it didn't seem like the blonde meant her any harm. Not like Chloé ever harmed her for the past seven years or so (though she still wasn't amused by how Chloé somehow managed to make her drunk text Adrien last Christmas and despite their truce, the grudge was there), but still.

She turned to the subject of her contemplation and total distress, who was currently standing beside her, carrying a yellow suitcase with a smirk she could only describe as smug. The blonde, she observed, was wearing that dress she had designed herself as a birthday gift a couple years ago, especially customized for the one and only Queen Bee with its matching sunglasses. It was touching, Chloé's attachment to a present from her, but that wasn't what surprised her.

Chloé, bless her old rival's fashionista soul, was wearing flats. Not heels, but flats. For comfort! Which didn't make sense, Chloé had not worn flats outside the Bourgeois residence since sixteen.

She raised an eyebrow at her old archnemesis, only to earn an indifferent shrug. "Oh, please, Dupain-Cheng," Chloé said with an eyeroll, dismissing her observation with a wave of a recently manicured hand. "Get over yourself, this had absolutely nothing to do with what you said earlier before the flight."

She would have bought that, except she saw the way the blonde avoided eye-contact. She grinned at that, feeling victorious over her influence. "Oh, please, Bourgeois," she mimicked, holding back a triumphant laugh. "I never even said anything about that, why so defensive?"

She caught the way Chloé's cheeks flared, but decided not to comment on it and just giggled. "Relax, relax," she told the blonde with a smile. "I'm just teasing. Now, is this where we part ways? I can't wait to tell Alya."

"You," Chloé playfully glared at her, as the blonde had done for years since they met though it lacked the poison it usually had. "If Césaire ever gets a word of this, I will ruin you!"

That only spurred her to laugh louder. "Alright, alright, your majesty, I was just kidding," she managed to say as she mockingly curtsied before she stood straight and calmed herself, if only a little. "But seriously, I've nowhere else to be today, and I was thinking we should pay Alya a visit."

"Why, Dupain-Cheng, are you inviting me to hang out with you?" Chloé asked her, amusement hidden in her former rival's blue eyes. She could see the blonde's lips twitching in an attempt to contain the laughter that was threatening to escape. "Let's see if I could fit you into my _amazingly packed schedule_."

"If by _packed schedule_, you meant your regular appointment with your bubbled bath, then I swear, I am dragging you to Alya's office myself," she replied, narrowing her eyes in warning before they both chuckled at their antics and walked away from Chloé's private chopper. Their bantering continued as they headed to the elevator and traveled to the ground floor.

This had been their dynamic ever since they had their not-really-temporary truce, due to their shared hatred for their Italian ex-classmate, Lila Rossi, who surprisingly beat Chloé's almost neat record at getting people akumatized. And it was an unexpectedly nice change. Since Chloé started hanging out with both Marinette and Adrien more, the two somehow managed to regulate the blonde's mean streak and over the course, Marinette had observed how the girl gradually matured and started to behave better.

With all honesty, Chloé had really grown on her.

"Hurry up, Dupain-Cheng!" That snapped her out of her trance, and only then had she realized that she was now standing outside the door of le Grand Paris hotel lobby. Alya was right, she really took spacing out to a whole new level. She directed her attention back to Chloé, who was now sitting in the back of a limosine, scooted to the opposite side so she could easily fit in, too. "Or else, I am _so_ leaving you behind!"

"Oh, right!" She squeaked her classic squeak, something her friends all claimed to be really fond of and unanimously dubbed _the Marinette squeak_. She remembered Adrien saying it was actually endearing when he saw her pouting and assuring her it wasn't as weird as she thought it was. She found herself blushing at the memory and ended up smacking herself in the forehead.

Trying not to let Chloé notice her current state of combustion, she sqeezed into the limosine, sat herself beside the blonde who was eyeing her skeptically, and thanked _Jeán-Luc_ (she made a mental note to find out the actual name of Chloé's butler, for she wasn't certain she got that one right) before the butler closed the door and made his way to the driver's seat.

She heard Chloé snort from her side, prompting her to turn to face the blonde, who was looking at her increduously. "What's wrong, Dupain-Cheng? Can't wait to see Adrikins?" To make matters worse, Chloé even had the audacity to wiggle an eyebrow at her, that damned insect.

She pouted indignantly and turned to the window instead. "We're not meeting Mr. Centerfold, we're meeting Alya!"

"So if I understood this correctly, your _so-much-more-than-his-pretty-face_ Adrien had now been demoted to just _Mr. Centerfold_?" Chloé asked, immitating her lovesick, dreamy look as a teenager pining over the blond model and ending the question flatly. "Ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!"

She gasped in disbelief at Chloé's observation, but before she could explain herself, the blonde already beat her to it.

"My _Adrikins_, whom you promised to keep in touch with," Chloé continued with a frown, "but never contacted until last Christmas, and how many months ago was that?"

She slumped in defeat at the reminder. "Look, it's not like I didn't want to, I just..." She took a deep breath and trailed on with her explanation. "He's probably busy, and probably already forgotten about me until I sent him that text, and I was drunk at that time and I probably just embarrassed myself! This is a disaster!"

She groaned at the memory again, the exact content of her text still fresh in her mind. _A fur-y merry xmas 2 u, hot stuff! Tho am purr-fectly certain u've fur-gotten me by meow! Anyway, i know it's a cat-astrophe at work rn but don't work 2 hard, tho I've a feline u'd still b purr-fect even when ur tired! -MDC_

Of all the times she actually remembered to sign her name under a message, she just had to choose that. Just great.

"Yeah, yeah, and when he actually replied, you never responded," Chloé raised an eyebrow at her, clearly unimpressed. "So lame!"

She blinked in surprise, feeling guilty at the revelation. "Wait, he replied? Why would he reply?" She asked Chloé, shaking the blonde violently by the shoulder. "You know I couldn't handle the embarrassment! That's why I changed numbers! Oh my God, this is stupid, if that text didn't do it, then the whole not-replying thing probably did! Now, for sure, he hates me! What should I do? This really is a disaster!"

"Ugh, gross! Now, you freak out? You loser, why wouldn't Adrien reply? You were friends, weren't you?" If she got a coin every time she received the classic Chloé eyeroll, she would have already owned a fortune without having to launch her own brand at all. "Besides, if you wanted to reply so badly, why change numbers?"

Having no decent excuses other than her cowardice, she just averted her eyes, almost missing the way the look on Chloé's face slightly softened.

She heard Chloé snap, effectively catching her attention. "You know, Adrikins is too smitten with you to actually hate you, heck, he can't even hate that bitch Lila despite everything, which is really gross, by the way, but you know you love that about him," Marinette almost struggled to understand what Chloé was saying, though to be fair, the blonde was speaking faster than what the situation called for.

When the intention behind the words finally sank in, though, she found herself gaping. Was _Chloé Bourgeois_ seriously trying to comfort _her_?

"Look, I know what you're thinking, I still hate you, but what I'm saying is that given his personality, he probably just thought you hated him," Chloé told her so firmly that she suspected the blonde knew more about this story than she initially thought. "Which is ridiculous, just how oblivious can that dork be? So lame."

Chloé was right. While that assumption couldn't be any further from the truth, it's probably what Adrien settled for. "You're right, I'm sorry, though I should be apologizing to him instead but I—"

All thoughts had come to an abrupt halt the moment the vehicle stopped. She almost felt grateful to end the conversation there, but as she prepared herself to exit the limo, she noticed something that she should have noticed all along.

"This isn't where Alya works," she stated with suspicion. She had been to Alya's office a million times, despite the fact that she had been spending more time overseas than in the city she had sworn to protect as a fourteen year old attending her lycée. She was certain this wasn't the correct address, but then, something about the building seemed oddly familiar, she just didn't know what.

"Oh, we just took a detour. Now, out with you!" Chloé all but pushed her out of her seat. She bit back a yelp and was about to complain when it finally hit her. She froze from where she stood.

_Of course_, she exclaimed internally._ I know this place!_ It should not have even surprised her. She should have seen this coming from a mile away, she was with Chloé, after all. How she failed to recognize the place was beyond her. Sighing in defeat, she just channeled her inner Ladybug and walked over to the entrance of the building.

"Welcome to _Gabriel_."


	2. Visit to the Company

Adrien was by no means a genius, but if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that his friends were up to something. And to top it all off, one of those friends just happened to be Chloé Bourgeois, so by default, it just couldn't be anything good.

"Come on, kid," a familiar voice from his shoulder groaned, and the sound of a black cat _kwami_ chewing up a too large slice of camembert followed. "It can't be that bad."

"Plagg, it's _Chloé_," he reasoned, as if that name alone was enough explanation to get the point across. "Of course, it's _that_ bad."

"How bad can it be?" Plagg asked him exasperatedly for quite possibly the millionth time that day. "If _headphones_ dude and _blogger_ girl are involved, surely, there's some damage control."

"You mean Nino and Alya?" He didn't know why he bothered asking when he already knew the answer. "You don't know how far those two can go when it comes to pranks. Whatever they're up to, Plagg, I have to know."

"Calm down! Seriously, kid, if you just ate some camembert, you'd be feeling fine in an instant!" To prove a point, the black feline floated and settled right in front of his face, holding out a slice of the foul smelling cheese as if the sight and scent of the snack were enough to entice him. "I don't usually share, but since I happen to be _particularly_ fond of you, I'll let you take a bite. Here."

When the kwami started drawing the snack closer to his mouth, he backed off into his office chair and flinched upon realizing he couldn't escape. Feeling disgusted, he closed his eyes and turned away, much to his kwamis delight, if the snicker he heard was any indication.

"Ugh, _fine_! If you hate it so much, then I'll eat it, myself. We shouldn't waste food, kid." The moment he opened his eyes, the black cat kwami already chomped down the last remaining piece of camembert he stored in his jacket with much gusto that he wondered if Plagg actually had any intention of sharing at all.

He supposed not.

He made a move to snatch the kwami from where it was floating when his private phone's caller ring tone clouded his ears. Normally, he would not have had enough time for non-business phone calls but at this particular moment, he realized that he wasn't exactly as busy as he usually was, so he figured it wouldn't hurt to pick up this time. He wasn't looking forward to more messages left in the voice mail, after all. He had enough to last a lifetime.

Sliding to unlock his phone, curious yet unnecessarily hopeful, he read the name that flashed on the screen and was disappointed to find it was just Alya. Sensing the shift in the mood, Plagg snickered again. "What's wrong, kid, _Pigtails_ still hasn't contacted you yet?"

"Shut up, Plagg," he chastised the kwami, who just smirked at him unrepentantly. It seemed the kwami would never let him live it down, he didn't know why he assumed otherwise. He did know, though, that he wasn't feeling particularly enthusiastic about the topic Plagg seemed to enjoy so much, so he just tapped the green phone-shaped icon on the screen to answer the call just to avoid the conversation altogether. Sadly, considering it was Plagg, the best that could happen was that it would only get postponed until later.

"There you are! _Mr. Centerfold_ in the flesh!" He cringed at the sudden noise, but chuckled when he saw Alya's face on the screen. As usual, she had some black ink smudged on her cheeks. "Thought you'd be too busy to pick up!"

Again, he cringed. "Sorry 'bout that," he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've just been busy lately."

"Yeah, I know, you went to London last week, right?" She dismissed his apology with a giggle. "It's cool, really, but I actually called you to apologize, myself."

He frowned at that. "Hmm? What are you gonna apologize for?"

That earned him a laugh. "Remember your plans with Nino later this afternoon? Might have to raincheck on that," he saw her grimacing, hiding the lower part of her face with some prints of what he assumed were news article drafts. "I hope you don't mind me borrowing my boyfriend, though. I just—it's really important but I'm sure you can still make time for us this weekend, right? We really have a lot of catching up to do."

This time, it was his turn to laugh. "Of course, of course, _Mlle. Future Editor-in-Chief_," he assured her. "It's fine, though I suppose it's actually you guys who should make time for me."

It was only a few pleasantries later that she'd decided to hang up on him and he was reminded once again just how disconnected he had become with people over the years. He was about to sink into his chair and have another one of what Plagg dubbed the _she's-never-gonna-call_ sessions when his phone unexpectedly rang once again. He groaned, not feeling particularly hopeful this time. When Chloé's face flashed in the screen, he wasn't even surprised anymore.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, he just ignored the call and went back to the papers that were still waiting to be signed on his desk. He was almost relieved when the ringing stopped, but given that it was Chloé, he should have known better. He raised his hands to nurse his temple in frustration. And as he chanced another glance at his phone again, the blonde's smug face flashed on the screen.

Annoyed beyond belief, he didn't pick up until the third ring. "Ugh, finally, you pick up!" Chloé's voice filled up the entire room. Sometimes, he forgot just how loud this girl could be. "I know that _you_ just chose to ignore _me_, but I'll let that slide! Now, come over here at _Gabriel's_, right this instant, or I swear to God—"

"Wait, why would I go there? I had everything brought to my office here at the mansion," he replied with a frown.

"Apparently not," Chloé answered flatly, snorting as if there was something he was missing. "Now, just stop being too stubborn and come here as fast as you can!"

He opened his mouth to argue but Chloé being Chloé, she just stared him down and the words died on his mouth. "I know you're busy, but you're gonna thank me later!" She told him confidently with a wink, and just like that, the line went dead.

He raised his hands in the hair in disbelief. "Can you believe that, Plagg?" He asked his kwami, whom he found resting atop a pile of papers in a very cozy manner that had it been any other cat, he would have cooed. But it was Plagg, so he just glared. "How can you be so relaxed about this?"

His mind flashbacked to his last conversation with Chloé several days ago. _Adrikins! I called to ask you for a favor!_ He remembered the blonde telling him that night, using that stupid petname she made for him over a decade ago. _You see, there's this fashion show in NYC and I'm going to walk on the red carpet so make sure you show up!_

_Why should I be there?_ He recalled asking. _I'm not even invited. I don't do as much modeling as I did in lycée._

Chloé blinked at a loss, but quickly recovered. _Umm, you see, one of the male models cancelled on us! Yes, that, so lame. And we don't have enough time to get another one, so I decided to call you instead! You're not going to turn down an old friend, are you?_

The blonde even had the audacity to give him the puppy eyes. Knowing that arguing was pointless, he was about to concede when he heard a suspicious voice from the opposite end of the line. The voices were muffled but he was able to make out a few things. _What? I never even heard of that! _someone hissed in the background.

Chloé hissed back, _well, now you have! So better make sure that one of those lame models doesn't turn up!_

The blonde then turned back to him and gave him a sheepish smile before hanging up. Now, that was _very_ suspicious. At first he had only guessed, but now he was almost certain there was more to it than just Chloé bragging about new clothes. But then again, there was only one way to find out, so he decided then that it wouldn't hurt to show up.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, just before the flight, he had to cancel due to an emergency at the office. He remembered the frustration he felt when he read the headlines the next day and saw an all too familiar face immortalized in a photo. **_French Designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng Flaunts New Designs, Model Chloé Bourgeois Sports Dupain-Cheng Designs At NYC Catwalk_**

He supposed it was pointless to keep stressing about all this, though. Slumping his shoulders in defeat, he just got up from his chair, opened his jacket so Plagg could fly in, and called his driver to drive him to _Gabriel's_.

He arrived at the company office half an hour later and considered asking around for Chloé when he saw a crowd of people gathering around one of the desks. When he spotted Chloé's familiar shade of blonde hair, he supposed that since she was technically a celebrity, it was natural that people flocked around her. Around a minute later, she finally caught his gaze and waved him over with an ear to ear triumphant grin.

Smiling fondly at Chloé's attitude and waving back weakly, he walked over to where his employees were gathered but then something else caught his eyes and he all but froze on his tracks upon the sight.

There, in all her glory, stood the love of his life, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, looking at him with the brightest smile he'd ever seen on her face, and that was all it took for his brain to momentarily stop working. But just as fast as the erratic beating of his heart, the smile left her face and he could have sworn he heard the way his heart shattered to pieces within his chest.


	3. Reunion at Work

Strolling casually through the glass doors of the large infrastructure and making a beeline (_**ignore** the pun_) straight towards the elevator seemed too natural to Chloé that Marinette had to wonder how many times the blonde had done exactly that over the course of many years knowing and being at close quarters with Adrien.

She then ultimately decided she didn't want to find out and cursed that part of her that felt even just the tiniest bit—she would admit, but not to Chloé—_jealous_.

She watched the blonde from the corner of her eyes and noted that Chloé was now cradling a folder that hadn't been there during the ride and vaguely remembered the butler (_what was his name again?_) handing that same file to Chloé before driving off to wherever he was supposed to be.

Well, speaking of _where_ people were _supposed_ to be.

"Why are we here?" She finally asked and risked a glance at Chloé who didn't even look the least bit bothered. "I don't suppose Alya is somewhere inside this building?"

Truth was, she already _knew_ Alya wasn't there, and she also wasn't _that dense_ not to have a clue as to why exactly Chloé brought her there, but she had to at least hope against hope that Chloé had a heart somewhere deep inside that chest, knowing full well that she still wasn't mentally prepared for anything freak-out worthy too soon after her most recent breakdown in the car, which was just a minute or so ago.

She heard Chloé snort. "If you're asking if Adrikins is here, then I assure you, he isn't," Chloé told her in an attempt to calm her down, but just as she let out a sigh of relief, the blonde almost inaudibly added as an afterthought, "_probably_."

It took her seconds before she processed that, but when she did, she almost lost her mind and took off running. Unfortunately, she was still inside the elevator and had to wait before she could escape. "**_What_**?" She then grabbed Chloé by the shoulder for the nth time that day and violently shook the blonde. "You mean you don't even know if he's here or not? We _have_ to leave immediately! There must be an emergency exit button here somewhere!"

"Let go of me, Dupain-Cheng! **_Ugh_**!" Chloé all but stripped Marinette's limbs away without the usual rich-girl grace and moved as far away from her as possible, as far as the minimal space of the elevator allowed anyway. With a sob, the blonde then pointed an accusatory finger at her. "Y-you ruined my _perfect_ hair! Do you know how hard it is to m-maintain my hair? A-and you crumpled my clothes!"

"Yes, clothes that I designed for you so you don't get to complain!" She snapped back before shrinking to herself with trembling hands burrowed in her dark hair. "And if this goes on, I won't be alive long enough to design _you_ another Queen Bee themed dress! And then I won't be able to make it to Jagged's latest album launch for his new collaboration with Clara! Then I won't be able to buy my **_dream house_**! Or, or, or the hamster, whom I'll call _Nightmare_! Yes, **_Nightmare_**!"

"And then, you'll never have your and _radiant_, _dreamy_ Adrien's precious children whom you'll name _Emma_, _Hugo_, and _Louis_?" Chloé retorted drily before wildly gesturing around them in frustration. "If you keep freaking out everytime his name is even brought up, then that won't happen either!"

"How can you even say that? He hates me!" She screeched, pulling at the stray strands of her braided dark hair. Then it dawned on her again. "Oh my God, he _hates_ me, Chloé, he hates _me_!"

"Ugh, I thought we already established earlier that he _doesn't_!" It was then Chloé's turn to grab her by the shoulders and look her in the eyes to knock some sense into her. "And avoiding him like the plague won't make him hate you any less! But of course, he doesn't hate you!"

She was about to argue further when the elevator dinged, signaling their arrival at their floor of choice. She almost tripped over herself and fell on her face when Chloé pushed her out and dragged her by the arm. The next thing she knew, she was being shoved inside a room along with the mystery folder and before she could even complain, the door was slammed on her face.

"Was that Chloé Bourgeois?"

She turned around and gaped at the seemingly kind man who sat behind the desk just a few meters away from her. "I-uh, yes, that was Chloé," she stammered in embarrassment and grimaced. "Sorry 'bout that, monsieur."

Surprisingly, the man just chuckled good-naturedly and the many crinkles on his face showed, a sign of his old age and apparent sense of humor. "Please, sit down," the man offered, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. "I've waited long enough for this."

"Umm, there _must_ be a mistake," Marinette tried to explain, but not knowing how to coherently retell the story of Chloé's betrayal. "This was like, umm, a _spur of the moment_ kind of thing."

Again, the man just laughed at her fondly. "Really? Well, I'm just glad you made it here, anyway, Mme. Dupain-Cheng."

"_Know name my you_?" she stumbled over her words dumbly. Upon realizing her mistake, she slammed a palm on her forehead, groaned, then corrected herself. "You know my name?"

"Of course, mademoiselle, who in the French fashion industry doesn't know your name?" The man paused to beam at her and she couldn't help returning it. "Besides, _Gabe_ specifically mentioned you in his last wishes, so, naturally, I know who you are."

Upon hearing that, Marinette was instantly torn between two things: one - pride that her idol, the fashion mogul that was _Gabriel Agreste_ who was also _Adrien's father_, had remembered _her_, Marinette Dupain-Cheng; and two - horror, because that same fashion mogul also happened to be _Papillon_, who hunted her and her (_then_) partner, Chat Noir, whom she now missed dearly, in her teenage years.

"By the way, I also hear that you're quite..." he broke her out of her trance, pausing for effect and wiggling his eyebrows, "..._acquainted_ with the young heir, no?"

Marinette blushed at the insinuation but could not find her voice in time to deny nor correct the false rumor. "Anyway, lemme take a look at your portfolio," he reached out a hand at the folder she was holding. "For _bureaucracy_ purposes only, of course, because we both know we'd accept you anyway, even without Gabe's recommendation."

She didn't know how to feel about that and just stared at the folder. True enough, when she opened it, it did turn out to be a portfolio of her most recent designs and sketches along with an application letter and a sheet that contained most of her personal information. How Chloé managed to get ahold of that, well, she could only credit to Alya and Sabrina. She made a mental note to have a word with all three of them before handing the folder to the man whose name she realized she still didn't know but could not muster up the courage to ask for.

..._and_ so, that's how she landed a job at Gabriel's without even planning to, feeling nothing but guilt over the ease with which she wormed her way into a high position without working her way to the top tier.

She could now imagine the office gossips here and there about how she unfairly took advantage of her connections with the Bourgeois. Or much worse, the headlines blaring in red: **_Amateur Designer Dupain-Cheng To Have Reportedly Seduced Multi-Millionaire Bachelor Heir of World-Renowned Gabriel Brand!_**

She was starting to regret ever accepting the position, but then again, it was a little too late to turn back now, especially when she was already carrying a box that contained her art supplies and walking over to her designated office table. _You can do it, Marinette, for you're Ladybug and Ladybug is brave_, a voice inside her head that sounded suspiciously like Tikki told her. She then resolved to at least make it to her post without having yet another nervous breakdown.

When she made it in front of her cubicle, she noticed a crowd of people gathered around, all with welcoming smiles on their faces. She then dropped her box on a table, wiped off the sweat on her face, and faced the crowd. "Ummm, _hi_?" She curtly hid her hands behind her back after managing to wave at them shyly. "I suppose I should introduce myself."

"No, no! You don't have to!" One of her officemates, a woman slightly older than her, stepped forward to wave back. "I mean, we've all been freaking out since yesterday when we saw you with _the_ Chloé Bourgeois! You're BFFs, right?"

She cringed at that despite the little truth behind the statement. After all, since she and Chloé agreed to have a truce, they've basically been attached to the hip. "You could say that, more or less."

"That's great! I'm Juliet, by the way, it's nice to meet you!" The lady then grabbed her hand and proceeded to shake it before gesturing to the timid girl beside her. "And this is Belle, who's the intern assigned to be your secretary!"

"Wait, I have a secretary here?" Blinking in surprise, she chuckled nervously. "You must be mistaking me for someone else, I'm too young to have a personal assistant!"

"What? Of course not, don't be silly," Juliet dismissed her concern and looked at her as if she'd just grown a second head. "You're _the_ Marinette Dupain-Cheng, _designer extraordinaire_!"

"I swear, now that I've seen her up close, I'm more certain I've seen her before, not just on a fashion magazine!" Another unfamiliar face chimed in, followed by, "yeah, now that you mentioned it," and several nods.

She grew more nervous at that, were they talking about her uncanny resemblance to Ladybug? "Ha!" She choked out a forced laugh. "You know, I've designed a few album covers here and there, so..."

"Oh yeah, Jagged Stone, right?" One agreed.

"Yes, yes, that," she grinned sheepishly, pointing with her two hands awkwardly.

A few minutes later, the ruckus then died down and everyone finally settled on their respective work stations. She followed suit, moving her things inside the small room, but granted, the peace and calm only lasted until Chloé's voice rang loudly in the background and every head turned to the door. "_Dear Mari_! Can you imagine what happened earlier? Nath drew me another portrait!"

Soon enough, Chloé's headful of golden locks and skyblue eyes popped out to peek inside the room and in a matter of seconds, the excited blonde was already jumping in place right in front of her. _The damned insect_, she thought as she narrowed her eyes at Chloé, who just kept beaming sweetly, seemingly forgetting the whole ordeal the blonde had just forcibly subjected her to.

"Wait a sec, I took a picture of it, I'll show you. I know, no need to get jealous, I already sent it to Alya, and she loves it! You should see it, too!" The blonde just blabbered on while fishing for a phone inside a bag that was probably a _Gabriel_ product, most likely not realizing how the people around them just gawked at them.

"And," Marinette started slowly. "You couldn't just send that picture to me via text because..."

The blonde glared at her. "And risk having you ignore the message altogether? No thanks!" The blonde dramatically snapped a finger to emphasize her dislike towards the idea. "And don't be too salty, your boy toy will soon be here, anyway, though I'm sure that loser can't even paint a face, much less yours, even if his life depended on it."

Marinette opened her mouth to begrudgingly agree that Adrien just wasn't the artist type of guy but suddenly remembered the comment about boy toys, prompting her to shut her mouth just to think up a way to clarify that she and Adrien were just good friends, but then, wouldn't that be too defensive? Chloé didn't even mention a name. She gritted her teeth in frustration, knowing better than to take Chloé's bait.

Chloé then exclaimed, grinned in triumph, and showed the picture on the phone to Marinette with a light blush dusting the blonde's cheeks.

"**_OMG_**, it's _really_ Chloé Bourgeois!" somebody suddenly interrupted.

They both turned to the source of the squeal, a girl whom Marinette recognized to be Cindy, from Bordeaux. "I can die now!" Cindy continued yelling in excitement.

Chloé, being Chloé, just shrugged and handled the unwarranted attention with the grace of a celebrity, something Marinette envied greatly. Now, if only she had even just half as much grace as Chloé did, she might have ended up happier, with—

Nope, she didn't have the energy to go down that road. She was better than this, she should know better than to entertain the what ifs, she should just focus on the present. Hmp, she huffed, deciding to just ignore all negative thoughts.

From the corner of her eyes, she could see Chloé gushing animatedly about, she'd quote: "my artistic boyfriend you could only wish you had but didn't," dear old Nathanaël from lycée, who was also about to hold an art exhibit at le Grand Paris in a few weeks' time.

She felt something in her swell with pride, and found herself smiling despite her current state of mind. So maybe she could have been _happier_ than this—_happier_ than she had been in a long time, but that didn't change the fact that she was, still, _happy_. It wasn't much, but for her, that was enough. So when somebody from the crowd cracked a joke, a horrible, _horrible_ pun that would have arguably put Chat Noir to shame, she didn't hold back the bark of laughter that escaped her lips.

It was _easily_ the most genuine laughter she had ever laughed in months.

The jokes would go on for another full minute, or was it half an hour, she couldn't tell for the life of her but the moment Chloé glanced at the door, visibly lit up, and grinned maniacally, Marinette immediately knew a storm was brewing and about to strike. Not caring about how the attention of everyone was suddenly on the two of them, the blonde stood straighter on tippy toes and waved enthusiastically before whispering to her. "I told you, he'd drop by."

Marinette, oblivious to the surprise Chloé had apparently prepared for her, turned her head to the door and standing right there, across the room, was Adrien Agreste, her beloved _kitty_, her partner and best friend, the one and only man who had ever touched her heart. And the worst part of it perhaps was that she still couldn't tell whether that was a _good_ or a _bad_ thing.


End file.
